Just My Hand Me Down
by supernaturaldh
Summary: The story of Sam’s life, from the day he was born until Dean actually understood him, as told from his big brother’s point of view.


**Just My Hand Me Down**

**By Supernaturaldh**

_Okay- I don't know why I wrote this, just a little muse that kept bouncing around in my head. So here it is…_

**Beta: None, all mistakes are my own.**

**Summary: The story of Sam's life, from the day he was born until Dean actually understood him, as told from his big brother's point of view.**

I vaguely remember the day Samuel John Winchester was born, the second son of John and Mary Winchester. Since I was the first son, and only four years older, I guess it's okay if the memory is a little skewed. Sam was a pretty baby, all rosy cheeks and big wondering eyes. And I remember he made my mom and dad smile - a lot. I have to admit, I was a little jealous, but my jealousy waned when I got to hold Sammy myself for the first time. I remember my Dad placing pillows all the way around me and then my mother gently putting the little bundle in my open arms. Sam smiled at me that day, little gurgles and coos that made me grin. It was at that moment that I made Sammy my own. No one would ever hurt my baby, not my little brother, I wouldn't let them. He was my brother, and I was taking care of him - no matter what.

-0-

The day my mother died, I was lost, the fire, the heat, and running with my baby being the biggest part of that memory. I didn't understand what had happened, I just knew my Mommy was gone, and my Daddy was really, really sad. My six month old brother cried all the times and I crawled into the baby bed and held a cold bottle of milk for my hungry baby to eat. I cried a lot too, and we both just wanted our Mommy. Daddy was oblivious, and seemed to sleep all the time. One day, not long after Mom left us, my baby was quiet, wide glassy eyes staring up at me. He wouldn't eat, and he only whimpered when I touched his hot face. That was the day I got my Daddy back. I just remember patting my tiny hand against his bearded face, and announcing that something was wrong with my baby.

-0-

When Sam was two years old, I was the all consuming big brother, always looking out for him as he toddled around. I made sure he didn't stick anything in his mouth, that he took his naps, and that Dad fed him. I worked hard to keep him warm, dry, and safe, always safe. I remember a lot of nights sleeping in the car with my little brother snuggled up against me, my Dad locking us inside, while he hunted some unknown creature. Dad was absorbed in his fight to find my mom's killer. I just did what I was told and hoped one day that my Dad would let me help him with the hunt.

-0-

At age five, Sammy started having nightmares, not dreams, but actual vivid nightmares that woke him, and me, with a start. He would flail around in his sleep, dreams of fire, and flames, and fear overcoming him. I would dart from my bed and rush to my little brother's side, shaking him awake. He would always cry and whimper, stuttering out his fears, his little body shivering and shaking. I would end up with a lump of kid brother curled up in my bed with me, snuggled in close, every single night – just like clock work. It bothered me that Dad paid little heed, always wrapped up in some research, some hunt, always too busy to notice that my Sammy wasn't sleeping.

-0-

Dad was hard on Sammy, never really letting him be a kid. He was always making him do extra chores, and duties to make up for his lack of enthusiasm with hunting. Me, I loved hunting, would do it forever if I could, but Sam, he was different. He liked reading, writing, going to school, and keeping to himself. It seemed to me that Dad punished Sammy for his differences. I suppose my little brother was more like my Mom, because Dad and I did not have any of these qualities. I was proud of Sam, of the way he got good grades in school, I just wished my Dad could see it, would be proud of my Sam for who he was - just give the kid a break.

-0-

I was devastated the day Sam announced he was going to Stanford, a full ride, and miles away from me. I remember his eyes glistening when Dad yelled at him to stay gone. I wanted to support him, but I couldn't, I was torn. I couldn't understand how I could love this life so much, and that it wasn't what Sam wanted. He just wanted to leave. The disbelieve I felt made me angry with my brother. I watched his eyes pleading with me to understand, but, at the time, I didn't. I saw the tears rolling slowly down his face when he realized he was on his own. He flung the acceptance letter at my father and me, and ran hastily from the room. My heart pounded in my ears as I stood in the doorway and watched my little brother stuff his meager belongings into a duffle bag, anger radiating from his lanky frame. Finally, my heart broke in two when he disappeared into the darkness – no longer a part of my life. There were weeks of silence as my father and I absorbed the fact Sammy was gone. I recall watching my father's rage turn to sorrow, and then to utter despair. John Winchester was a hard headed son of a bitch, anger overriding his remorse. I listened silently as he swore he would never speak to my baby brother again, and he meant it. I knew that day, Dad wouldn't be the one who made the effort to stay in touch with Sam, keep him in our family. I cried silent tears, feeling totally lost and empty.

-0-

I hunted with my father, and watched from the sidelines of Sam's life, lurking in the darkness, hiding in the crowds, hoping for glimpses of my little brother. I planned hunts around Palo Alto, sneaking there whenever I could. Sam looked sad at first, always walking alone, reading books beneath trees, all by himself. I had to fight the urge to grab him in a hug and make him immediately come back home. I so wanted to talk to him, but didn't think he wanted to talk to me. So I watched, silently, and I wondered just how my kid brother was doing. One day, as a lurked among the shadows, I found Sam was not alone, but walking and talking to a pretty little blond girl. When I saw the way she looked at him, I knew she had found the Sammy that I so dearly loved, my kind hearted little brother, the kid that would do anything, for anyone. It's funny; my Dad never asked questions when I would disappear after a hunt, come back late after dragging out my return an extra day or so. He would just look at me curiously, concern resting in his eyes. He would always nod his head and give me a little smile. Yes, I was sure that he knew what I was doing, that I was looking out for Sam.

-0-

When my Dad came up missing, I was in New Orleans, on my own hunt. Something I didn't really like doing, but hey, I was 26 years old and needed my space. When I couldn't locate him, I suddenly felt very alone, and it scared the crap out of me. It was too much, I wanted, no, I needed Sam, needed him by my side, helping me. I wanted to know that he cared about what happened to Dad, to me. It had been 2 long years and I needed my dysfunctional family - I would be damn if anyone else was going to disappear from my life. It was a hard decision for me - to contact Sam, but I knew if I didn't talk to him now, it may never happen. My heart pounded with nervous anticipation when I went to see him; to ask him for his help. Surely, I thought, he would not turn me down; it was our Dad, after all. That night, I met Jessica, the wonderful girl that had accepted Sam, just for being Sam. I happily dragged him back into the hunt, very pleased when he said he would go with me, help me to find Dad. It felt normal to have Sam riding shotgun in the Impala, almost like he had never left at all. And I was so proud of him, how smart he was, of where he was headed, what he had accomplished. The kid was all grown up, and I finally realized, he would always be my little brother, no matter where he was, or what he did, no distance could take that away.

-0-

When I dropped Sam off that night, after hunting the woman in white, we still had no clue where our father was, although, his cryptic text message gave us both hope that he was out there, alive, somewhere. I had truly hoped that Sam would want to stay with me, keep searching for our Dad. But, my strong, capable little brother was happy. If possible, I felt sad and happy at the same time. I knew he loved Jessica, and he wanted to go back to the new life that he had created, the life he had always wanted, so, I relented, didn't press, and let the kid have his way. As I dropped him off, I could see the sadness in his eyes - he had really missed me – and that thought alone, made me smile. I finally understood my kid brother, he wanted something different from me, and he was going after it – I thought that was pretty damn awesome!

The End!


End file.
